


Neurochemical

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8370919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: Kinda strange to see a dead guy walk into a party you happen to be at. Coulson dances pretty well for a dead guy, though, and while she wouldn't trust him around Jane's lab equipment, she trusts him to be able to navigate her away from danger. Too bad the danger lingers.





	

Darcy narrowed her eyes at the suit-wearing man walking towards her. She'd never _not_ seen him in a suit, but he seemed to look a little extra formal this evening.

Coulson was wearing a pleasant expression on his face, which she took as her cue to plaster one on hers as well. “Ms. Lewis,” he greeted, coming to a stop _just_ before he stepped into her personal space. “May I?” His hand came out between them, palm up.

She stared at it for a second. “Uh. Yeah, but if I step on your toes, it's totally not my fault.” She slipped her hand into his and followed him out to the dance floor.

“Just relax and follow my lead.” He brought their joined hands up by his shoulders, his other hand settling into the small of her back.

“Yeah.” His suit jacket was smooth over his shoulder as her fingers cupped around it. It was kinda nice that he wasn't in the over-six-foot-tall club, she wasn't straining her back to reach _all the way up there_. But... “What are you even doing here?” That.

He didn't answer for a moment, effortlessly guiding her across the dance floor. And who knew that Coulson knew how to dance like this? “I could ask you the same thing.” It wasn't an accusation just a statement of fact.

Her eyes narrowed a little again. “Uh huh. I'm a last minute plus one for someone I knew in college. But, considering you _are_ here, I'm guessing that means some shit is going down. Just throwing it out there, I am super handy with distractions.”

He actually did smile at that, although that may have been part of his whole pretending to be a normal guy thing. “I'll keep that in mind.”

She couldn't help but glance around the room, but then she really _did_ step on his foot and had to turn her attention back to him. She winced as she met his eyes. “Shit, sorry! I just... Is something going on? Like, should I be trying to book the next flight to Norway or something?”

His gray eyes locked on hers for a long moment. “How well do you know your way around?”

“Um, not at all?” She shook her head. “Like, literally, this guy Jeff saw my Facebook post and he was all, 'We took a couple classes together and I can't help but notice you'll be in the area,' and I was all, 'Whatever,' because I thought the food would be good.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm totally getting a burger when we get out of here. But it's apparently his cousin's something or other? No idea.”

“Where is your date?”

Darcy took another look around the room, slower this time so she could still half-concentrate on not stepping on her dance partner. “Uh. Good question. He fucked off a while ago. Which really sucks, by the way, because I don't know anyone.”

He didn't really say anything to that, but she could sure see the look in his eyes. “Okay, but if you make my date incapable of driving me home, then I'm going to need a ride before the shit hits the fan and I'm some sort of witness.” She stared at him for a moment. “You owe me, iPod thief.”

He smiled at that. “Good evening, Ms. Lewis.” He actually twirled her before stepping away.

She watched him move off through the group of people until she couldn't see him anymore. Well, one drawback for not being in the over-six-foot-tall club. Well, fuck. She wanted a drink. The food was kind of shit, but the bar was excellent. But if something really was going down, she wanted to be sober for the whole thing.

Maybe she should just try to call a cab or something now. They might take a while to get there, but hopefully it would still be before the whatever it was went down. “Shit,” she breathed as she moved back over to her former spot by the wall where she'd been people watching.

No one _looked_ like a bad guy. That didn't necessarily mean anything, though, not everyone could be a mustache-twirling villain. At least Jeff didn't have a mustache.

Maybe she should try to text him. That probably wouldn't be a bad idea. He'd said he wouldn't be long, but it felt awfully long. Of course, running in Coulson might have skewed her perception of time a little bit with his whole, I'm a super top secret guy saving the world, thing.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he just knew a guy and had some time off. Yeah, like Coulson ever took time off. Even when he was dead. She shook her head at that thought. Well, it was good that Sif had sort of let slip to Jane that he wasn't dead during pillow talk or whatever, or this might have been a _huge_ surprise.

Darcy pulled her phone out of her pocket. She'd actually specifically gotten this dress because it had pockets. There was one she'd liked more, but no pockets. Idly, she Googled _flight to norway_ just for kicks. No big surprise that was a little out of her price range. She'd had to budget down next week's dinners just for the dress.

She did text Jeff. She wasn't really surprised that she didn't get an answer. Yeah, it was probably time to start looking for her own way home.

Coulson was walking back towards her, though. That _was_ a little bit surprising, she was sure she'd seen the last of him for a while. But no, there he was, and he was walking right towards her, his gray eyes fixed on hers. This time when he came to a stop in front of her, his hand up, she took it right away.

Her phone went back in her pocket as he led her back out to the dance floor like nothing had happened. Who knew, maybe nothing had.

He pulled her against him again, his hand somehow feeling warmer in the small of her back. “Do you still need a ride home, Ms. Lewis?”

Her eyes widened a little as she looked up at him. “Yeah, actually. I texted Jeff, but I'm pretty sure he fucking ditched me. Which, nice. Do a guy a favor...”

“You're going to have to trust me.” There was a note of urgency in his voice. His whole demeanor seemed a little more intense than it had a moment ago, and that was an odd thing to see. She didn't think he was capable of intense.

She also noticed that he didn't ask her if she did trust him. That was probably for the best. But she nodded. She wouldn't trust him with Jane's lab equipment, but if he was getting away from somewhere, that was probably what she wanted to be doing too.

“Follow my lead.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes seeming to soften a little as he looked down at her. “And I'm sorry.”

Before she could dig any farther into that, his hold shifted until his arm was around her waist. They weren't dancing anymore, they were... Walking? Walking. Towards where she'd come in.

Somehow there were two kinda big dudes standing on either side of the door, looking suspiciously like what Erik would call jack-booted thugs. They definitely hadn't been there before.

Coulson leaned down towards her, close enough that she could feel his breath against her ear. “Lean against me a little more.”

Oh. _Oh_. Right. She left herself relax into his side as much as she could, trailing a finger down the front of his suit jacket. “How drunk should I be?” she asked in an undertone as her lips moved into a smile.

“As much as you can manage.”

She let her head loll against his shoulder, her eyes trained on the side of his smoothly-shaven jaw. He smelled good. Not cologne, but some kind of underlying citrusy something.

When they neared the door, one of the men stepped in front of them just enough to stop them in their tracks. That wasn't good. “No one's allowed to leave,” he said. “Not without some way to get you home.” His stare was just a little too sharp. “Mr. Camden is serious about drunk drivers.”

Coulson seemed to have it handled, though. His free hand came up to rest against the front of her waist, his fingers sliding across the smooth front of her dark blue dress. “Oh, we're not going. She just wants a bit of fresh air.”

She could practically see the air quotes around “fresh air.” She turned into Coulson, burying her face in his neck as her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. His fingers pressed in against her hip, but there was no way to tell if that meant she'd made the right call or that was a mistake. “'s hot,” she mumbled.

She assumed that the bouncer or whatever stepped out of their way, because they were moving forward again. She pulled away just enough to be able to put one foot in front of the other.

Coulson led them outside and around to the side of the building, stepping away from her when they were out of eyesight of the bouncers at the door. There was a lawn out here, windows lit up behind curtains along the side of the massive house. But no one appeared to be watching them. “My team should be here in about two minutes.”

Darcy nodded, probably a little bit too much. “Okay.” It was actually a little bit warm, now that she was thinking about it. The cool night air felt good against her skin. She'd checked a shawl, and she was a little bit miffed that they were leaving it behind, but didn't really miss its ability to keep her warm. “What's going on?”

“I'll tell you on the Bus.”

There was a bus? That seemed a little strange. But she knew better than to ask questions, so she just stood there and let her eyes move over the side of the house. She was so tense she felt like she would snap, she kept expecting someone to leap out all, “Aha!”

There was a strange sort of windy noise. A touch on her shoulder startled her, turning her the other way. A quinjet shimmered into view just down the lawn from where they were. It actually felt like it had just been two minutes, too.

“Come on.” Coulson started striding towards where a ramp was lowering, and she moved along beside him, practically running in her heels to keep up.

She ended up strapped into a seat at the back of the thing. It lifted away from the ground with that elevator feeling, but it didn't really feel like an airplane. They were obviously going somewhere, but... “Smooth ride.”

He looked over at her, but he didn't say anything. At least for a while. “When we get to the Bus, our biochemist is going to take some blood from you.”

Wait. Take blood? “Why?” The question was drawn out as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“We believe everyone who was at that party has been contaminated.”

Okay, the gentle voice thing was pretty awesome when it came to delivering potentially bad news, but the news was still potentially bad. “Like, how?”

“We're not sure, but we believe it's some kind of neurochemical.” He seemed to frown a little.

She could only peer at him for a moment. Only fucking her. If it wasn't an alien invasion, it was some weird neurochemical whatever. “Am I going to die?”

“I hope not.” A slight smile at that. Of course, if she was going to die, he was too. That improved her chances of not dying, right? They'd want to make sure he didn't die. They'd already brought him back or whatever once.

The tension in the back of the quinjet seemed to grow with each passing second. Thankfully, it wasn't that long before they flew up into an even bigger airplane-thing. Apparently Bus meant some super high tech jet thing that also turned invisible. So that was a thing. Sif had never mentioned that- or Jane had failed to pass it along.

Sure enough, a Dr. Simmons met them in the quinjet in an actual biohazard suit, and that was a little worrying as well. So was her tight smile behind her face shield thing. But she was incredibly efficient as she took a sample of Darcy's blood, and she was pretty good about it too, Darcy hardly felt it.

When that was done, Coulson hustled Darcy through the Bus so quickly that she didn't really get a chance to look around. They ended up in a small room with a hexagon-patterned wall. And apparently he was chilling with her, he closed the door behind them. Well, that made sense. If they were contaminated, then they were both contaminated.

“So... Now what?” She asked as she looked around. There was a table in the center of the room, a chair on either side. That was about it.

“Now we wait.”

That sure sounded like fun, especially in a room as bare as this one. Well, she still had her phone, and she'd made sure it was fully charged before she went out for the night. She pulled a chair away from the table and took a seat. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't bad.

It was a little warm in the room, and seemed to grow warmer as time went on. It wasn't just her, either. Coulson took his jacket off and slung it over the back of the other chair. He loosened his tie, rolled his sleeves up.

“Doesn't your super high tech fancy jet have central air or something?” she asked, pushing her hair back from her face. She'd gone with a loose and down look, but it was really starting to get a bit much.

“It's the neurochemicals.” He paced around behind the other chair to rest his hands on the back of it.

“Well, then they should come with air conditioning.” Her phone was still out in front of her, her game still up on her screen, but she wasn't really looking at it anymore. All she could seem to look at were Coulson's hands, his blunt-tipped fingers as they gripped the chair. And his forearms. “Why, um, why did you pull me out of there, anyway? I was under the impression that SHIELD didn't give two shits about me.” Her voice seemed a little huskier somehow, she licked her lips.

His eyes tracked the motion. “We weren't sure what was going to happen, and I think we have some mutual friends that would have been a little upset if we could have saved you and didn't.”

“Well, it's true.” She set her phone down on the table and leaned down to pull her heels off. “What is this, like a fever or something?” Her skin was starting to feel a little bit tight and achy. Maybe achy wasn't the right word. Maybe tingly was a little more accurate. She got to her feet, putting some distance between them. All she wanted to do was put her lips against the place in the underside of his jaw she she could see the faint beat of his pulse.

“Not quite. Dr. Simmons is working on an antidote right now.” His eyes were a little too intense as he watched her move across the room.

“Okay, but is there an antidote, right?” There was definitely an ache. A hot, needy ache between her legs that had her wishing she was alone with her favorite vibrator. She balled her hands into fists to keep from reaching her hand down under her skirt anyway. It seemed a little strange that she was even considering that in front of someone she really didn't know at all.

“Dr. Simmons is confident there is.” He paused for a moment, and she could see his grip had tightened so that his knuckles stood out white against his skin. “I don't think they'd want their people affected like this. We just need to...”

“Wait?” The wall was cool against her bare shoulders as she pressed herself back against it. It wasn't really helping, not really, but being farther away seemed safer. Her fingers came up behind her, pressing in against the wall like she was trying to grab it. Because the more time passed, the more staying away from Coulson seemed like just the worst idea. His shoulders were a rigid line of tension, veins standing out against his forearms as he stood there. She had images of those forearms shifting and bunching as his hand worked its way under her skirt, up to the absolute heat of her.

She wasn't entirely sure who moved first, who twitched, who gave in to what was becoming a burning need. But they were moving towards each other, drawn by the promise of touch, of heat, of skin.

He yanked his earpiece out even as he strode towards her, tossing it carelessly at the table. His hand slid familiarly across her waist as they met in the middle of the room, but he didn't stop coming. He steered her back towards the wall until he pinned her there with his body, the ridge of his erection a heavy promise as it pressed against her hip.

Her fingers were busy at the buttons of his crisp, white shirt. She couldn't seem to pull them open fast enough, and was slowed a little when his lips came down to meet hers. The kiss was bruising, almost desperate, his tongue claiming her mouth like he had every right.

Darcy wanted more. She _needed_ more. She pulled his shirt up out of his trousers to get the last couple of buttons free, and then her hands slid over his shoulders, pushing it down.

He pulled away just long enough to shed his shirt and pull the white undershirt underneath up and over his head before he was on her again. One hand covered the back of her neck, his fingers closing in her hair to keep her in place. The other settled on her hip for just a second before skimming up the side of her dress to where the zipper was. He took her mouth again, even as the zipper slid down with one impatient tug.

She took a moment to pull off the straps, letting the dress slither down to pool around her bare feet. She shuffled enough to kick it out of the way, her palms coming back up to slide up over his bare chest.

He grabbed the back of her thigh, bringing it up to hitch around his hip. She tore her lips away with a gasp as the head of his cock caught across her hot center, even through their remaining clothes. She couldn't help but grind against him, digging her heel in against his ass for leverage. The stimulation felt amazing, lighting her entire body up with pleasure. It wasn't enough, though, she needed more.

“There's a bed.” His voice was thick, edged with as much desperation as she felt.

“Okay.” She leaned forward to close her teeth around his earlobe, tugging until he groaned. The sound vibrated straight through her, almost seeming to lick against her clit. So she did it again.

His fingers bit into the back of her leg before he let go. He didn't pull away, rather both of his hands came between them. One fumbled with the front of his trousers, the other pulled her flimsy excuse for panties out of the way. She'd worn a thong so there wouldn't be any VPL, and it was really convenient.

A finger thrust deep into her until she let go of his ear, burying her face in his neck to stifle her yell. Even with hardly any foreplay she was soaked, his digit pumping easily through her slick arousal. “Bed?” she practically whimpered, and there was a fleeting thought that he wouldn't be able to hear her.

“You want me to stop?” He tugged the trousers down from under her thigh, letting them fall away.

“No!” It was her turn to reach down between them, gripping the base of his cock and holding him steady. A little noise slipped free as he nudged against her over-sensitive clit, but he didn't linger there. Instead he shifted his hips, dropping himself down a little until he could drive up into her pussy.

Her head fell back against the wall, a low groan tearing free as he filled her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Coulson's grip on her thigh felt enough to leave bruises as he fucked her. She tried to move against him as best she could, but there wasn't a whole lot of leverage. She held on tight, lower lip caught between her teeth.

Time fell away. All that mattered was the relentless drag of his cock. She felt tight around him, the sensations he was pushing into her more intense than anything she'd ever felt before. A bead of sweat trickled down between her shoulders, tickling as it slid along her skin.

The heat in her body spiraled higher and higher like it would never end. Release was just out of reach, always out of reach, driving her to buck against him, to rake her fingers across his shoulders.

Darcy almost missed the faint hissing noise, lost as it was to the sounds of their harsh breathing, of each groan and whimper that was pulled free. It felt like her head started to clear, to let her see the way to ease the consuming need. “Oh, fuck!” She found her clit, rolling her finger over it. It only took a couple of sure swipes before she came with a shuddering cry.

Coulson stiffened against her, she could feel the hot pulse as he came deep inside her.

Reality slammed into her like a punch to gut. Her eyes widened and she looked right at him as he pulled away. “Oh, _fuck_.”

His expression was... Everything. Everything she could feel swirling through her brain. Contrition, guilt, confusion... He reached out towards her, but he stopped just short of touching her before his hand fell away. “The antidote,” he said instead. His gray eyes locked on hers for another long moment before he turned away, stooping to collect his trousers from the floor.

It was impossible to miss the angry red lines across his shoulders, a fresh reminder of... What had happened, anyway?

The door opened, and Dr. Simmons came in. At least, Darcy assumed it was Dr. Simmons. She wasn't wearing the biohazard suit this time. She exchanged a few quiet words with Coulson before moving across to where Darcy was getting her own dress picked up. There was a sympathetic expression on her face, her expression changing into one of pointed brightness. “Why don't you have a seat, and I'll take a look at you. The neurochemical should be completely gone.”

Darcy felt numb as the other woman pressed a blanket around her shoulders. She let Dr. Simmons lead her back to the table and urge her down into a seat. “Okay.”

Completely dressed, Coulson paused at the door for a moment, turning to give Darcy a long look. He didn't say anything, though, and left the room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I spite-wrote this shit out of this one.


End file.
